


things you said when you were drunk

by tangerinick



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ezor is Trying, F/F, Mutual Pining, and Acxa is Wasted™, the gayest thing I'll ever write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinick/pseuds/tangerinick
Summary: “You’re really pretty.”Two strong arms snake around Ezor’s waist like an iron vice, trapping her in, holding her close. Ezor would be ready to fight back if it weren’t for telltale smell of peppermint and vanilla enveloping her like a familiar downy blanket, warm and heavy. Acxa’s full weight seems to rest against her back and Ezor slumps to catch it, suppressing a shiver she can feel when Acxa giggles suddenly, quietly, uncommon, against the nape of her neck.prompt: "things you said when you were drunk"





	things you said when you were drunk

**Author's Note:**

> [from this prompt meme](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com/post/171664769441/prompts-1-things-you-said-at-1-am-2-things): “ _things you said when you were drunk_ ”
> 
> appropriately dedicated to [aquacanis](https://aquacanis.tumblr.com)
> 
> unbeta'ed

“You’re really pretty.”

Two strong arms snake around Ezor’s waist like an iron vice, trapping her in, holding her close. Ezor would be ready to fight back if it weren’t for telltale smell of peppermint and vanilla enveloping her like a familiar downy blanket, warm and heavy. Acxa’s full weight seems to rest against her back and Ezor slumps to catch it, suppressing a shiver she can feel when Acxa giggles suddenly, quietly, uncommon, against the nape of her neck.

_You’re really pretty_.

It’s a startled confession, whispered hotly behind her ear. Ezor can’t just feel said smile burning into her skin, but also in the core of her bones. It sets something alight, something that makes her laugh along, high-strung. Her heart starts to rattle. Especially when the heady, sharp smell of alcohol hits home. It burns the elated feeling to ash.

“You’re drunk,” Ezor tells her, trying to twist around until they’re face to face—which sounds too close and too daunting for the fearful voice inside her head. The same voice telling her to get away from the warmth of Acxa body against hers; Acxa’s chin resting in the crook of her shoulder and neck; Acxa’s hands tucked over her ribcage and near her heart, still running just a tad too fast.

Fortunately, her flexibility has nothing on Acxa’s strength, keeping her rooted to the ground. If anything, Acxa’s grip tightens, as if she can’t bear for Ezor to leave.

“’M not drunk,” Acxa mumbles into her hair. “Zethrid said it was okay.”

“ _Zethrid_ “, Ezor screeches, looking around, a little more high-pitched than she would like—but Acxa’s wrapped around her like Ezor’s the cuddliest thing ever to exist and she can feel the rise and fall of Acxa’s chest against her spine and one of her hands is slowly creeping up, bunched into her shirt, and she might die, she’s so-

Across from her, Zethrid gives her an annoyed glare. She makes a clear cutting sign, almost elbowing the poor sap on the ratty couch beside her in the ear. Ezor raises her eyebrows, but then Zethrid leans back into the space of an extremely pretty girl with a glittering lip ring and eyelashes so long that when she bats them flirtatiously under Zethrid’s rapt attention, Ezor understands why she doesn’t want to be disturbed.

“How much have you had to drink?” Ezor asks.

“Only, uh-” Acxa goes silent, thinking so hard Ezor doesn’t even need to see her to know that it’s a lot. “I don’t remember.”

“Of course,” Ezor mutters, then jumps about a foot into the air when Acxa whispers into her neck; utterly too close for Ezor’s sanity. Like an electric current, a shiver ripples down her spin.

“You should let your hair down more.”

"I’m assuming you mean literally?” Ezor twists around again, as stealthy as a snake, unclasping Acxa hands from where they’ve moved down to her waist. “You’re awfully touchy when you’re drunk.”

“But.” Acxa frowns, the little crease between her eyebrows deepening in concentration. Ezor has to resist lifting up a hand to smooth it out, because touching Acxa anymore than she has to right now just isn’t healthy for her little gay heart. “You’re always afftech-” she stumbles over the word, “affectionate with other people.”

Okay, that’s true, but not like this. Ezor is a naturally touchy person; couch-cuddles during Netflix nights, lording her height with a companionable arm slung around a shoulder, hugs instead of customary greetings, frequent pats, and a handful of platonic makeouts. It’s like breathing. Yet. She holds her breath around Acxa, restraint and self-control and a few other qualities she does not possess naturally, because Ezor is damn terrified of scaring her off like a skittish animal. Now, with Acxa so close Ezor can feel the heat radiating off her skin, it’s a bit too close to the truth of what Ezor _really_ wants.

“You need to sit down,” Ezor tells her, forcing a laugh when Acxa complains like a petulant child, lips pouted and everything. “I’m not carrying you all night.”

They shuffle over to one of the couches, which is a whole endeavor, with Acxa hanging off her neck and all. Ezor catches sight of a free spot opening up—right next to Zethrid and eyelash girl, and makes a straight beeline for it.

Zethrid heaves a giant sigh at the sudden interruption as Ezor attempts to shift Acxa down onto the couch. Attempts being the operative word, because Acxa refuses to let go, like a stubborn clamp, and takes her down with her into a heap. Ezor shuffles out of her lap awkwardly before she can think about it too much, repositioning herself between Acxa and Zethrid’s new _belle_. Acxa’s arms are now around her neck, and she snuffles awkwardly into her neck, shyly silent.

“Hey,” Ezor groans towards Zethrid’s girl, but gives her a wide smile nonetheless.

“This is Ezor,” Zethrid says, lifting up a slung arm to point at her, “and her human backpack is Acxa.” She takes the excuse of craning around to point at Acxa to shuffle a little closer.

“I’m Nyma,” Nyma grins. It’s a sly grin, the type of grin that predicts very good things for Zethrid in a few hours. The ring in her lower lip flashes under the low light.

“ _Enchantée_ ,” Ezor says. “Mind if I interrupt real quick?”

“Yes,” Zethrid mutters. “Not that I hate your joyful company, but as you can see, I have a pretty nice thing going on.”

Nyma’s smile turns into more of a smirk. Pretty nice, indeed.

“Aw, look at you, getting all miffed,” Ezor giggles. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. I’ve just got to know- Acxa?”

“Mmhm? ‘omeone say my name?” Acxa finally looks up from Ezor’s side, eyes wide and blinking like a baby bird. Zethrid leans over to pat her on the head until she settles back down, then rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry about, she didn’t have much. A few shots, a beer or two. She’s just got the tolerance of my aunt Linda.”

“Tolerance, shmolerance, point is, she’s drunk off her ass. I mean, look at her!“ Ezor gestures around largely. “You should’ve kept an eye on her, instead of going off to flirt with some hopeless idiot- uh. Nyma, you’re very nice.”

“Thanks,” Nyma says dryly.

“Point is, if Acxa were in her right mind right now, she’d be telling you off for this.”

Zethrid laughs. “Listen, I know we look out for each other, but Acxa chose to drink everything she did. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know it would turn her into the equivalent of a cuddly bean bag, but here we are. I’m sorry about that part.”

“Sorry doesn’t change the state of the human-shaped octopus next to me.”

“Next time I’ll pay more attention to when Acxa finally takes the stick out of her ass to get a little wasted.”

“You better,” Ezor grumbles, but there’s no heat behind it. “Because I have to drag her back to the dorm.”

“Don’t complain so much. It doesn’t become you,” Zethrid says. “You’re turning into Acxa, worrying about everything.”

“Your f _ace_ doesn’t become you.”

“I disagree,” Nyma says.

“Thank you for that insightful observation.” Ezor lets out a short bark of laughter. It disrupts Acxa’s head on her shoulder. Acxa breathes in deeply, then burrows her face into the crook of Ezor’s neck. It _should_ be awkward, annoying, unpleasant—it isn’t.

“You smell nice,” Acxa says, all of a sudden. The hands hanging over her shoulders start sliding down again, smoothing over her shirt, down her ribs, until they rest on Ezor’s hips; right above the line of her belt. Ezor shivers like it’s freezing.

“Oh.” Something evil appears in Zethrid’s eyes, and Ezor avoids them guiltily.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“You don’t mind this. In fact, you’re secretly enjoying it.” Zethrid’s tone is goading, yet there’s no judgment. It doesn’t stop the hackles rising.

“Make me feel like a shitty person, alright,” Ezor bites.

“Down, tiger,” Zethrid retorts. “All I’m saying is, Acxa being cuddly all of a sudden doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ezor knows it’s always pretty obvious when she’s into someone—she gets on the edge of flustered, gains an unusual defensive side, reacts strongly to the person’s behavior—but _shit_. Zethrid and her knowing gaze are finally onto her.

“Look on the bright side,” Zethrid says, then makes very intense, soul-staring eye-contact with Nyma, leaning in until both girls are inches apart. “At least both of us are taking a girl home tonight.”

“Bold of you to assume,” Nyma whispers, forgetting Ezor is literally right next to them.

“I hate you,” Ezor finally says. “Come on, Acxa.”


End file.
